


Dwindling Moments

by Aquila_Star



Series: Powers of Persuasion [15]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feels, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Star/pseuds/Aquila_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preparing to leave Laketown, Bilbo is struck by fears that he cannot allay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwindling Moments

Thorin woke up to the most wonderful sensation, his dream fading into blissful reality. His limbs were still heavy with slumber and yet, he could feel sweet, moist heat surrounding his cock. He moaned softly as a wet tongue swirled around the head before encompassing him again, drawing another moan and then a sigh from his lips. He breathed in deeply, stretching his sluggish muscles, reaching down with eyes still closed, a slow smile curving his lips as he touched silky hair atop a bobbing head. 

“Amralime,” he breathed, pulling himself further from sleep, wanting more than anything to crack his sleep filled eyes and take in the sight he imagined. He could picture it, Bilbo's red lips wrapped around his swiftly hardening member, slick with saliva, his eyes hot with that passionate fire. That fire should consume Thorin but didn't, only filling his veins with heat and his chest with the warm ache of love. 

Bilbo moaned around his cock as Thorin's hand tightened in his hair, and at last Thorin was able to open his eyes, looking down to see the scene exactly as he imagined it, only nothing his sleeping brain could come up with could ever compare to the sight of Bilbo, his eyes dark with desire, staring right into Thorin as if he saw everything Thorin was, everything he could be. Thorin's heart was well and truly lost. 

Just when Thorin thought he would burst, his climax ready to tear through him with a ferocity that would leave him boneless, Bilbo, treacherous creature that he was, pulled off Thorin's cock with a soft pop, grinning at him, happily chirping, “good morning!”

Thorin grunted in dismay, but was unable to keep himself from smiling back. “Tease,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep. 

“I am not!” Bilbo insisted, throwing his legs around Thorin and settling on his hips, his cock as hard as Thorin's, the bumping of them only teasing him more. “I'm following through on my promise.”

“Oh?”

“I promised to suck you until you were ready to scream, and then ride you until you came inside me. You made me wait until tomorrow, but if you'll notice,” he gestured to the pale morning light filtering through the worn drapes before continuing, “it's tomorrow.”

“It is indeed,” Thorin agreed, taking Bilbo's cock in one hand and stroking it roughly.

“Ah, don't!” Bilbo said, slapping Thorin's hand away. “It's too soon. You're not even inside me.”

“Perhaps you should rectify that,” Thorin growled, taking his lover by the hips and pulling him up, hissing in a sharp breath at the sensation of his hard, eager cock slipping under Bilbo's clearly oiled crevice. “You're ready for me,” he said, the blood in his veins surging with desire, as it always did when Bilbo was this close to him, when he proved himself to be a diligent, generous lover, always ready for anything that Thorin desired of him.

“Of course I am,” Bilbo scoffed, tilting himself over Thorin's chest, rubbing his cock on Thorin's skin, leaving smears of precome in the thick hair that covered his chest. “I know how eager you get in the morning.”

“I'm eager for you any time of the day,” Thorin corrected, lifting himself close enough to capture Bilbo's ripe lips, teasing with the tip of his tongue even while he pressed forward with his hips, seeking the clenching heat of Bilbo's body. Luckily for him, Bilbo was as eager as he was, as done with waiting, so he sat back, letting Thorin's cock catch on the slick rim of his hole before sliding home, both of them groaning with excruciating sensation. There was no more patience now, for either of them, Bilbo's strong thighs working hard to keep a languid rhythm, Thorin encouraging him along with eager thrusts, lifting Bilbo's small body with the strength of his arms and the power of his hips. 

They continued for a long, sweet span of time, both content in the act, knowing that the culmination would come over them soon enough, would take them and leave them sticky and sweaty in each others' arms. Thorin was content to wait, taking in the sight of Bilbo above him with hungry eyes, wanting to keep every movement, every expression in his memory forever. He was struck with the knowledge, the certainty, that Bilbo would leave him, that every day brought them closer to that one day, the one when Bilbo would take Thorin's heart and travel back to the west. Usually Thorin pushed the thoughts of Bilbo's departure away, letting his love and hopes buoy his spirit, but there were times that he could not deny it, could not help but anticipate the bittersweet breaking of his heart, knowing that he could never bear to keep Bilbo beside him by any method, for any reason, except Bilbo's own desire. 

He whispered a broken prayer to Mahal, as he often did in those moments, pleading that Bilbo would love him, that he would stay, that his fiery passion and his indomitable spirit would grace Thorin's life for all the years yet given to him. 

But right now, Bilbo was warm and present in his arms, surrounding him with scalding need and boundless energy, and Thorin felt himself tipping over the edge of his orgasm, grasping Bilbo’s cock with one of his hands, drawing out Bilbo's orgasm as Bilbo drew out his, tossing them both over the cliff into heady bliss, uncaring for the mess their pleasure left in its wake. 

Bilbo would always leave him breathless, lost in the depths of his all consuming love, the exposed edges of his vulnerable heart sharp in his chest, cutting him, his lifeblood welling but not spilling over, held in check until that day, the one that was fast approaching, when he would watch his heart depart his body and set out into the setting sun. 

Thorin muttered another prayer, one of thanks that this was not that day, that he yet had time to hold Bilbo close, to breath him in and write these dwindling moments into his memory. 

 

* * *

 

They spent the morning packing, organizing their gear and ensuring proper division of their provisions. They washed anything that needed washed and mended anything that was torn, and generally made ready for their sunrise departure. Most of the Company made sure to buy more pipeweed, and Bofur spent the last of his coin on a cask of ale, thankfully a small one, as he would be carrying it himself. 

By dinner they were are ready as they could be, so the night was spent in a manner much like the previous one. The Dwarves took full advantage of the food and drink on offer, knowing that once they reached Erebor, things would be much more rationed, fully aware that the next day would bring them to the foot of the mountain. 

While they made merry, Bilbo again sat with Balin, in a very comfortable chair by the fire, yet even the pleasant buzz provided by the smoke in addition to being warm and well fed could not calm his troubled mind. Thorin's fears about the gold and his desire for it were weighing heavily in Bilbo's thoughts. He had promised that he would stand by Thorin, and he would. And yet, he was filled with doubts of his own, doubts about his wisdom, about his perception of the situation. Doubts about his ability to guide Thorin through the thick of it, even doubts that he would recognize the signs that Thorin was struggling. He hoped that Thorin would remain open with him, being honest and upfront about his desires was the only sure way that Bilbo could help him. Bilbo was afraid that the madness would sneak up on him and then it would be too late. 

But he would do it, he would do whatever he could to help Thorin combat the sickness. 

In addition was the creeping realisation that he may be in over his head with regards to Thorin. It was becoming much more plain with every touch of Thorin's hands, every whispered word from his lips, especially when he spoke Khuzdul, something Bilbo loved, but was clueless to interpret. 

There was that one word, the word Thorin had repeated regularly, in moments of tender intimacy or proud accomplishment, the word he had been repeating since their reconciliation atop the Carrock. Bilbo had often wondered what it meant, but had been apprehensive of asking about it. He told himself that his hesitation was out of respect for the jealous secrecy with which the Dwarves guarded their language, the language given only to them, the language gifted to the Khazad from their Creator. In truth, he feared to know what it was that Thorin said to him so reverently. 

He was beginning to suspect that he knew what it meant, he had the gist of it anyway, it was clearly an endearment. Finally, on the heels of their last night together, Bilbo screwed up his courage and decided to ask Balin for the meaning, the better to face the future with complete knowledge. 

“Balin,” he said nervously, still unsure if he should ask, despite his determination to do so, worried about what the answer would bring. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask away,” Balin replied, puffing on his pipe as he regarded Bilbo seriously, seeming to know the gravity of Bilbo's question. Balin had always been very observant and insightful. 

“It's about Thorin,” Bilbo continued, looking away from Balin's knowing expression, his eyes scanning the Dwarves spread across the room. Tonight, Thorin had managed to escape the Master and was on the balcony, smoking and discussing strategy with Dwalin.

“Of course it is,” Balin said. “What troubles ye, lad?”

“It's...he's been saying something to me?”

“Is that a question?”

“Well no, it's a fact, but it's a question also. The question is, what does it mean?” Bilbo said, shooting Balin an apprehensive look.

“Ahh,” Balin replied, nodding. “I think I know what you're speaking of lad, but tell me anyway, just to be certain.”

“It, uh....he calls me, um. I think it's, amralime?”

Balin nods again. “Yes, it is. We all heard him say it on the Carrock, after all.”

“Yes,” Bilbo confirmed, watching Balin's face for a clue as to what he was thinking, but he was canny, and gave nothing away. 

“Was that the first time he spoke that particular word to you?” Balin asked.

“Was it...oh, yes. He's only said it a few times, but it's always when we're...close, or when he's particularly pleased.”

“Naturally,” Balin said thoughtfully. “It's very like Thorin to use it sparingly, meaningfully.”

“Balin, it's driving me crazy. What does it mean?”

“Do you not know?”

“I've...guessed. I think. But I'm not sure and I'm beginning to wonder if this entire thing hasn't been a mistake.” Bilbo looked down at his hands, picking absently at a chipped nail. 

“How so?”

“I'm afraid that I'm in too deep, Balin. That he's in deeper than me, I mean, and that when I go home, it's going to hurt him.”

“It will hurt all of us,” Balin pointed out, smiling fondly at Bilbo. “We've all become very fond of you, and we'll miss having you around. You're one of us now.”

“Of course, I'll miss all of you,” Bilbo agreed, returning Balin's smile. “You've been the best friends I've ever known, every one of you. Even Dwalin.”

Balin chuckled, giving Bilbo a wink. “Aye, my brother is a hard one to warm up to, but rest assured, he's as fond of you as the rest of us are.”

“Good, because I'm rather fond of him. But, Thorin...”

“Ahh yes,” Balin said, sobering. “Thorin.”

“What does it mean, Balin?” Bilbo demanded, meeting Balin's eyes and holding his gaze.

“Amralime is the most sacred of endearments,” Balin explained, his voice soft. “It translates literally to beloved, although the implications of it are more profound even than that.”

“He's in love with me, isn't he?” Bilbo asked sadly, his stomach clenching and his chest aching. He rubbed at the pain with his hand, hoping to ease it. 

“Very much so, I believe,” Balin answered, a little too honestly, if Bilbo was any judge. This was not an ideal situation.

“It was a mistake. I should never have let it get this far. I should never have let him get so close.”

“You had no idea, lad,” Balin said, laying a hand on Bilbo's and squeezing. “Thorin is a very...difficult person to get to know. He's guarded and set in his ways and stubborn as the stone. He's a Durin through and through, and I would know.”

“Yes, I imagine you've some experience there.”

“Indeed. Dwalin and I, and Oin and Gloin, are all just as susceptible to that particular failing, though our line is more removed from the direct descent. At any rate, you could not have predicted how Thorin would react to you, and keeping your distance would likely not have mattered.”

“How can you be sure? I can't help but think that I should have accepted his apology on the Carrock but kept our relationship platonic from there on out. Maybe it would have helped.”

“Oh, I don't think it would have mattered one bit,” Balin said, shaking his head. “As I said, even had you never been with Thorin at all, I fear the result would have been the same. Perhaps it would have taken him longer to recognize, but it would have ended in the same place.”

“How can you be sure?” Bilbo asked, wishing that there was something, anything he could have done differently. 

“Lad, I don't think you realize how far back this goes. I am completely certain that Thorin was all but in love with you before we even left Bag End.”

Bilbo stared at him, stunned. “Wha? But...really, Balin? I don't...how?”

“Eloquent as ever,” Balin said with a chuckle, before his expression changed, conveying his sadness over the whole business. “I tried to warn him, before we met the trolls, but he was insistent that he was not troubled, that he was in no danger of falling. Of being hurt. But everything he did and said, before and after the Carrock, was but a symptom of a greater struggle. He treated you quite badly in the first part of our journey, mainly because he was struggling not to feel as he did, to pretend that he was the master of his own heart. But none of us are, in the end.” 

“There's nothing I could have done?”

“There's nothing you could have done,” Balin confirmed, his face still sad and serious. “I would like to ask you a question, if you don't mind.”

“Of course not,” Bilbo said, nodding. “You deserve that much, at least.”

“How do you feel about Thorin? I know you do not feel as he does, but does that mean you do not care for him at all, beyond a friend and a lover? Could you not be happy staying at Erebor with him beside you?”

“That's more than one question, Balin,” Bilbo pointed out, but he had to answer. His stomach was clenching harder now, his head throbbing with the awareness that he must hurt someone he cared for, though he didn't want to.

“I do care about him. I'm very fond of him, the stubborn goat. He makes me smile. He makes me want to be a better Hobbit, makes me want to be adventurous and courageous. I want him to be happy in all he does, and I hope that I've brought him some small measure of that happiness.”

“Does that not sound like love, Bilbo? Could you not remain, and see it deepen?”

“I...perhaps, had my situation been different, perhaps. But...I'm not in love with him, Balin. Not the way he is. I do love him, and perhaps if I stayed it could become more than it is, but my words from the first night are still true. I am a Baggins of Bag End, and I have responsibilities to more than myself. I have tenants and employees and family in The Shire, and I will not forsake them.

“That's not all, though. I miss home. I miss the rolling hills and little rivers of The Shire. I miss the snug warmth of my smial and the satisfaction of finishing a particularly long translation, or reading a very good book with a lovely cup of tea. I miss smoking the first pipe of the morning on the bench in the garden,watching the world wake up. I miss the gentle, good natured company of my friends and relatives. Well, most of them, anyway. I miss my home. I need to go back.”

Balin sighed, nodding. “Fair enough, lad. Home is why we're on this quest after all, however fine our situation in the Blue Mountains had become. I understand. And I know Thorin will as well. He will ask you to stay, but only once. He will not beg or try to devise methods by which to force your hand. He would not lower himself. He'll take what you offer freely, and give you whatever you desire in return.”

“He is remarkable, really,” Bilbo said, sighing. “I wish things could be different.”

“Aye, many do,” Balin agreed. “But it is what it is. Anyway, we have yet to see the outcome. Who can tell how events will unfold in the coming days? It is too soon to know.”

“Speaking of too soon to know, although I don't want to tell you this, I think you should be aware.”

“Oh?”

“Thorin has been feeling...urges.” Bilbo's sadness deepened into despair. He felt helpless, unable to keep from hurting Thorin, and worried about his mental state as well.

“Urges? I assume you are not talking about sexual urges.”

“Eru, Balin, no!” Bilbo snapped, shaking his head. “I have those well in hand, thank you very much. I'm speaking about...the gold. The treasure.”

“Thorin is falling into the sickness? Already?” Balin looked stunned and, for the first time since Bilbo had met him, frightened. Balin was intensely practical, which Bilbo loved about him. He was rarely shocked, surprised, or fearful, unlike Bilbo, and that was something else Bilbo loved about him. 

“You are sure about this?” Balin asked, his eyes guarded. 

“Certain. Thorin is the one who told me, he fears he will succumb as his father and grandfather before him.”

“His father's madness was less about the gold in the end and more about that blasted ring,” Balin replied. “Nonetheless, it is a very real fear, a possibility that cannot be overlooked. All the more because a dragon has been brooding on that hoard for well over a century. Add to that the sheer enormity of the treasure, and the cards are stacked against Thorin.”

“This is not good,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. “This is very not good.”

“No, it isn't. Dragon sickness can develop even without the aid of a dragon's dark magic, as was the case with Thror, but when a dragon lies on a hoard, he imbues it with his magic. A very dangerous magic.”

“Is there anything that can be done about it?”

“I'm sure that, were Gandalf here, he would be able to lift the evil that has no doubt soaked into the gold, in fact, I believe that is why he has urged Thorin not to enter the mountain without him. However, Thorin will not be willing to wait, we must open the door at just the right time, and once it is open, his patience will thin. He will likely be unable to resist the lure of the gold.”

“I'm scared, Balin,” Bilbo said, meeting his friend's eyes. Balin looked back at him, the same fear and apprehension on his face.

“As am I.”

“I have no idea what to expect,” Bilbo said, picking at his fingernail once more. 

“If he succumbs, everything that he is will be subverted by a desperate need for gold. To own it, to protect it, to keep it safe. To keep it his.”

“What would he be like? I need to know Balin, I've promised I'll be there for him, that I'll help. What do I look for?”

Balin sighed. “I was quite young when Smaug came, but I remember some things, and I was told many more. He would be possessive. Paranoid. Obsessed with the gold, and utterly incapable of reason where it is concerned. He will not want to part with one piece, though he may do so, grudgingly, if it means feeding his people. When it comes to deals or promises, payments that he has agreed to, if he feels that he was manipulated in any way, that the one who makes the claim is unworthy, he will likely deny it.”

“He...he promised gold to the Master, for his support and provisions. Not that any of the people will see any of it, but still. If he falls...if Thorin succumbs, will he go back on his word?” Bilbo frowned at the thought. He had vouched for Thorin, so it wasn't just Thorin's word that will be broken.

“The Master is most unworthy. I find it unlikely that Thorin will honour his promise to the man, should the worst happen. He will see the gold as his alone, and will deny any claim, even rightful ones.”

“Would he deny the Company their due, should it come to that?”

“He may. If it goes that far. But we are aware of it, he is aware of it. With luck, we will be able to help him resist it.”

“You don't think it will get that bad, do you?”

Balin sighed, shaking his head. “No, I do not. But there's no telling how bad it might get, Bilbo. Thror was utterly single minded by the end, he would have burned with the gold had Thorin not pulled him from the mountain.”

“None of this is helping with my peace of mind, Balin,” Bilbo admitted, his heart pounding, his fear for Thorin seizing it, while the doubts he held for himself raged cold in his chest. 

“I do not believe it will come to that,” Balin assured him. “Thorin is a very different Dwarf than his father or grandfather. His life has led him down different paths, and those paths have forced him to face adversity unimaginable to them. He is strong both mentally and physically. He will endure.”

“So I've heard,” Bilbo said with a smirk. He's heard plenty of times about how Thorin endured. 

“But that is not the only reason I believe he will not fall or, if he does, that he will defeat it.” Balin spoke with a certainty that Bilbo could not feel. 

“And what reason is that?”

“His heart is already full. His love for you will be a protection to him, and if need be, it will be the strength needed to overcome it.” 

“I'm not sure how I feel about that,” Bilbo said honestly.

“I know that you dread hurting him. And yet it may be that the love that will hurt him will save him in the end.” Balin spoke truthfully, from his heart, and Bilbo knew full well how wise and perceptive he was. 

“I hope so,” Bilbo said, sucking in a deep breath to steady himself. “Even if it causes him pain, I hope so.”

“As do I.” Their eyes met again, and Bilbo knew that Balin understood him. That they understood each other. 

“I will be beside him through it all,” Bilbo said fiercely. “I'll do everything in my power to help him through this.”

“And that is yet another mark in his favour,” Balin added, smiling brightly at Bilbo. “For you are an exceptional friend, Bilbo Baggins. As much as you may feel remorse for him, for the depth of his feelings for you, however it will hurt you to hurt him, I truly believe that, despite how it will play out, I truly believe that You are the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied, blushing at the praise. “Despite it all, how I feel about him, or rather, how I don't...he's the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Silence fell between them. With all the words they had spoken, they both had a great deal to think about. It wasn't long before Thorin appeared through the balcony doors, tucking his pipe away, his eyes scanning the room. He made a beeline for the fireplace, his eyes blazing bright as the flames inside when they met Bilbo's gaze. 

Bilbo smiled back at him, his stomach clenching anew. It would be so much simpler if only he loved Thorin the way that Thorin loved him. 

When the Dwarf in question reached them, he nodded a greeting to Balin and stretched out a hand to Bilbo, which he took gladly. Thorin used it to pull Bilbo up, holding him closer than was perhaps appropriate in mixed company, but Thorin didn't seem to care. 

“Goodnight, Balin,” Bilbo called over his shoulder as Thorin led him away, one hand moving dangerously low down Bilbo's back. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for what?” Thorin asked, his nose buried in Bilbo's hair, his closeness and intensity setting Bilbo’s blood aflame. 

“He's a good friend,” Bilbo said, keeping his answer vague, hoping that Thorin would not push it further. Fortunately, Thorin did not seem inclined to pursue anything but Bilbo, right into the bedroom.

“He is indeed,” Thorin said, tugging Bilbo up the stairs and through their door.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, another part. Truthfully, today was a madhouse, but I spent a good portion of the time on the side of the soccer field with pen in hand. Took some time to transcribe, but I'm happy with how it came together. 
> 
> Onwards!


End file.
